Run
by la Belle Luna Claire
Summary: Bootlegger AU. Set in the 1920's, Rachel, a former high society girl, and Thalia, a quintessential flapper in every right, run illegal booze in the dead of night to a speakeasy in the city.


**A/N: I'd never thought of a bootlegger AU before my friend Jay suggested it when I asked for prompts to test out my favourite new ship Thalia/Rachel (or Thachel, as I've taken to calling them, since there doesn't appear to be enough people who ship them for an "official" ship name). Most of it was written at, like, 1 am, so it's definitely not my best work, but I'm still trying to get a grasp on the ship and the characters, especially considering how different they would most likely be in such an extremely different universe. Anyways, enough of y rambling. Enjoy!**

The first time Rachel laid eyes on her, she thought she was looking at Clara Bow herself, except for the fact that Miss Bow couldn't hold a candle to Thalia Grace.

That was two years ago, back when Rachel was still new to the party scene, having been raised a proper young lady by strict, overbearing parents. She was still uncomfortable with the idea of drinking and dancing and wearing short skirts, but Thalia embodied the entire flapper lifestyle so well you could have easily assumed it had been tailor made just for her. Rachel distinctly remembered the blue-eyed beauty in her flouncy purple dress dancing rather scandalously with the gentlemen at the party, her short black hair perfectly arranged into finger waves, decorated with an elaborate headband. She was easily the most gorgeous girl on the dance floor.

Such a fine specimen should have never given the time of day to a Plain Jane like Rachel, who was dressed in an ill-fitting dress borrowed from a friend, wearing little makeup for fear of her parents finding the tins in her room, and her bright red hair frizzing in every direction like usual. And yet, as Rachel watched, mesmerized, while Thalia shook her body in obscene ways, the two girls locked eyes and Thalia sent Rachel a sexy smoky-eyed stare and curled her finger in an invitation to join her.

Little did she know that joining Thalia on the dance floor that night would lead to a forbidden, whirlwind romance and running liquor in the middle of the night.

"Baby, we're out of ciggies," Thalia complained, discarding the empty box in the floorboard.

"We gets some more once we make the drop at the juice joint," Rachel promised, casting a somewhat nervous glance towards the back of the car, even though the booze was all safely tucked away in flawless compartment under the seats, designed and installed by Leo Valdez, one of the best mechanics known to runners. No one had ever gotten caught using one of his devices.

"Don't be so nervous, doll," Thalia said with an easy smile. "I doubt we'll even get stopped."

Of course she spoke too soon.

As soon as the checkpoint came into sight, Rachel swore in a way that would make her poor dapper swoon with shock. "Remember the line, Thal," she warned, straightening her respectable green dress and putting on a sweet smile. Thalia, dressed in a pretty blue get-up looked every bit the proper lady she most certainly was not, matched the pretty little grin, though her wild eyes always made her look a little mischievous no matter her intent.

"Just like we rehearsed," Thalia agreed daintily.

This wasn't the first time they'd been stopped since they started running, and while Rachel could never quite be as confident as Thalia, at least the urge to go on the lam at the sight of every bull they passed. They were experts.

Rachel rolled down her window as the officer walked up to the vehicle. "Evening, sir," she said brightly to the pudgy man.

"Evening, ladies," he replied. "What's a couple of pretty young girls like you doing out on the roads this late at night?"

"We're just on our way back to the city after visiting my folks out in the country," Thalia answered, leaning closer to Rachel so she could be more easily seen. "They're Reubens, and don't really understand that respectable ladies like ourselves shouldn't be kept so late in the day."

"I understand, miss. I got a couple of them out on my mother's side. I'm just gonna shine a light in the back seat and let you two dolls be on your way."

"Of course, sir," Rachel said smoothly. "Whatever you need to do."

The cop pulled out a flashlight and starting shining it in the back of the car, walking slowly around the vehicle to make sure everything was spick-and-span (which of course it wasn't, given the number of bottles of moonshine concealed in the upholstery, but there was absolutely no way for him to see that), and when he was done he walked back over to the driver's side window.

"Everything checks out just fine, ladies," he said with a smile. "Now you two get on home, and make sure your folks don't keep you so long next time. It can be dangerous out on the roads at night."

"Pos-i-lute-ly, sir," Thalia smiled. "You have a great night!"

"You ladies, too," he replied, already walking away, back to his car, ready to stop the next car that came along.

Rachel let out a sigh of relief and got the car moving again.

"I know it's never a close call, but it always feels like it," she said, her eyes still on the rearview, making sure the cop didn't decide to follow them.

"Not to me! It feels like we're never gonna get caught!" Thalia all but screamed.

"Pipe down, would ya?" Rachel scolded, the police car finally disappearing into the distance behind them.

"It's not like that bull is going to hear me," she argued. "Anyways, let's just make the sale so we can be sitting pretty again."

Rachel smiled. "And what do you want to do with the dough once we've got it?"

Thal put on that sassy, smoldering smile that made Rachel go crazy. "I want to go dancing, get bent, and maybe go see the new Clara Bow picture."

"You always want to go dancing."

"You know you love it, too."

"What I don't love is all those goofs hanging all over you, knowing that you could have any one of them you liked."

Thalia leaned over, touching her hand to Rachel's face, forcing her eyes from the road to look at her. Those electric blue eyes were clear and serious. "You listen to me, Miss Rachel E. Dare, I _could_ have any goof I wanted. But I just want you." She touched her lips lightly to Rachel's for a brief second before pulling back and returning to her usual, laidback, sassy personality. "And don't you ever forget it."

"Why, Miss Thalia Grace, I believe I owe you a dance once we unload."

"Why, yes, I believe you do."

**Slang definitions (all found on the internet)**

**Clara Bow: a famous and iconic film star from the era, considered to be "The IT Girl"**  
><strong>Ciggies: cigarettes<strong>  
><strong>Dapper: a flapper's father<strong>  
><strong>Juice Joint: a speakeasy, illegal bar<strong>  
><strong>Line: a fake story, a cover-up, from an actor's "line"<strong>  
><strong>On the lam: on the run from the police<strong>  
><strong>Bull: a police officer<strong>  
><strong>Reubens: country-folk<strong>  
><strong>Moonshine: illegal homemade whisky<strong>  
><strong>Goof: a flapper's boyfriend<strong>

**A/N: Definitely not as great as my last fic (Sally Jackson's Home For Wayward Demigods) but I had some fun writing it. At the very least, I now know a ton of great 1920's slang. Let me know what you think (feedback is always awesome). This same fic is also located on my AO3 account and tumblr.**


End file.
